tector? It is a clear case, it seems to me. Besides, fathers are directed to bring up their children" in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." But can they do this while they pray oot with them and for them? I do not know how we are to comply with the apostolical exhortation to pray 66 every where," unless we pray in the family, as well as under other cir

cumstances.

Is any one in doubt whether the practice or omission of family prayer will be the more pleasing subject of retrospect from the dying bed or the eternal world? Parents should not forget, that presently will come the long deferred and greatly dreaded season of taking the last look and the last leave of those whom their decease is to make orphans. Oh, then, what a sweet thought it will be to enter into the dying meditation, that they have been in the daily habit of bowing down with their children in prayer, and commending them to the care and grace of their heavenly Father, and that they may now indulge the confident hope that he will infinitely more than supply the paternal place which they are to leave vacant ! But what need of more argument? I suspect every body secretly admits the obligation of family prayer. I judge so from the trouble many are at to apologize for the neglect. It tries them not a little to satisfy even themselves with an excuse. The usual plea is inability. They have not the gift, they say. What gift? Can they not collect their family together night and morning? Have they not so much authority in their own house as that? And then can they not read a portion of Scripture to them; and, kneeling down, express their common de. sires to God. The beginning of almost every good habit is difficult. The most of those who make this apology presume on their inability. They say they cannot before they have tried. But until they have tried, they do not know whether they can or not. What if some have tried once and failed? One failure should not

dishearten them, nor two, nor even twenty. Besides, how do those who presume on their inability to conduct family worship know what assistance they might receive from God, if they were to make an humble and faithful experi

ment?

If any one shall condescend to read this who does not pray in his family, I advise him to commence immediately. He knows that he will never be sorry for it, if he does; but he is not so sure that he may not be sorry for it if he does not. If there were no other reason in

favour of the practice, this alone would be sufficient. I think it is Jay who says, that a family without prayer is like a house without a roof -it has no protection. Who would like to live in such a house?

UNEXPECTED FRUIT.

I WELL remember a sermon preached some years ago, and with which at the time the preacher felt thoroughly dissatisfied: perhaps, if he had spoken the truth to himself, he would have owned that his dissatisfaction arose from the deep sense that he felt of his own incapacity, and the poverty of his own ideas and illustrations in that sermon. down from the pulpit humbled in his own eyes, and cast down in spirit, feeling in how inefficient a manner he had ministered to the wants of a crowded Scripture had been constantly brought before his congregation. One sentence, however, of Holy

He came

hearers; and secret prayer had not been wanting on the part of the preacher, that the Lord God would send down his Holy Spirit and give effect to his own word. The words I allude to-and they were those of the text-were from the 32d chapter of Deuteronomy, and part of the 47th verse: "It is not a vain thing for you, because it is your life."

the preacher's hand. It came by the post. It was On the following morning, a letter was put into short, and evidently written by one unskilled in letter-writing; but its few earnest words were eloquent with the importunate anxiety of a soul newly awakened to a sense of its own priceless value, and to the consciousness of guilt to which no remedy had been as yet applied. The writer asked for guidance and instruction, and spoke as one bewildered and distressed, helpless, and almost hopeless of relief. The conclusion of the letter was peculiarly touching. "Oh! sir, do not turn away from me, for it is not a rain thing for me, because it is my life!" A few words were added by way of postscript, requesting that a reply might be sent by the post, directed to two initial letters, Post-office, A reply was

immediately sent; but the reply was rather in the shape of an inquiry, requesting to know more of the writer of the letter, whose sex and position were not declared. Another letter soon followed: it began with these words:-"I am a poor servant girl." And after speaking of her extreme ignorance, and of her deep anxiety, the following short account was given. "Last Sunday I went to church in the morning, and I laughed all the time; I went to church in the

afternoon, and I slept during the whole service. I went to your lecture, sir, in the evening, and then it pleased God, for the first time in my life, to show me that I was a poor, lost, miserable creature." The words of the letter were ill-shaped, and the page seemed disfigured by them; but there was a natural touching simplicity. If I remember rightly, no name flow of language, beautiful from its earnest and was yet given, and no clue afforded by which I might discover the abode of the writer. But I now felt that I might be far more useful to my unknown cor

respondent if I could see and converse with her-if I could hear from her own lips her difficulties and her doubts-than if we continued to correspond by letter. But in this I was mistaken. She complied with my request, and called upon me. But she who could write with so much ease, and express her feelings so readily on paper, had scarcely a word to say, but was abashed and silent, proposing no question for herself, and answering those I put to her with a reserve which I found it impossible to overcome. During an acquaintance for many years, this manner continued. She has written to me from time to time; and in her letters she is able to express herself with the same natural flow of language. But from that evening-when the word of God won its way to her heart, and the Spirit of God impressed its vital truth there, awakening her whole soul to a sense of its eternal interests, quickening her conscience with the deep conviction of her lost and sinful state, and

causing her to realize that night the message of God to her soul, and to "know that it was not a vain thing to her, because it was her life "-a change, as remarkable as life from the dead, took place in her; and she continued from that time in one quiet course of consistent godliness. She was one of an ungodly, but respectable family, and had been till then careless and light-minded. Nothing has been more remarkable in her ever since, than her unvarying seriousness and her modest propriety of manner. The bow had been drawn at a venture, but the arrow, directed by God's unerring hand, had reached its mark; and by what was literally the foolishness of preaching, an immortal but perishing creature had been made wise unto salvation. It is a sad, sad proof of the presumptuous ignorance of some professing themselves to be wise in the present day, that they attempt to throw discredit upon preaching-" God's great ordinance," as Cecil has well called it, to bring -ouls to himself. There is scarcely a portion of the inspired word more full of solemn grandeur, more awfully impressive, than the commission given by the great apostle Paul to his beloved son in the faith, towards the close of his Second Epistle to Timothy -his last epistle-"I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom-preach the word." "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God;"" for it is by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever, that man is born again;"" and this is the word," adds the apostle Peter, which by the gospel is preached unto you." (1 Peter i. 23-25.)—Rev. C. B. Tayler.

"ARE NOT MY DAYS FEW?" JOB X. 20. Nor years, months, weeks-but days. Life is to be reckoned by days. Are not my days few? They are so in every respect-relatively-comparativelyabsolutely. It will not be necessary to prove this. No one denies it. No one can deny it. Yet how fnuch depends upon the proper use of a truth so obvious, and a reflection so simple! Are not my dave few?

But how came they so? All men die, but not willingly. Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life: but he cannot continue it. He hates, he dreads death. It is the king of terrors.

66

147

But

The thought of it embitters his comforts, and keeps him always subject to bondage. And could this have been the natural state of man as he came from fact as well as we; and, as he cannot deny it, let the hands of his Maker? The Deist meets with this him account for it under the empire and agency of a Being who is "omnipotent benevolence." Revelation gives us the only rational and convincing account "The body is dead because of sin."-" By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death hath passed upon all men, because all have sinned." It is not "a debt due to nature." It is the consequence of a judicial and penal infliction : For all our days are passed away in thy wrath." We are not struck with this, because we are accustomed to the result; and it gradually takes place. But could we have seen the deluge destroying the whole world at once, we should not have questioned t the provocation of God by some mighty cause. where is the difference, as to punitive justice, whether all the criminals are executed together or led forth one by one? Are not my days few? ready to exclaim, "are we in danger of turning selfDo not, then, render them fewer. "What!" you are murderers?" Yet how many are continually reported as having destroyed themselves! But violence is not the only mode of shortening life. One of our most eminent physicians has affirmed, that "the board destroys more than the sword." Another has said, "Though all men are mortal, not one in a thousand dies a purely natural death." Many enervate themselves by lying late in bed, and living, if it deserves the name of life, in lazy inactiveness, as injurious to health as to virtue. Envy is the rottenness of the bones; fretfulness and anxiety corrode; anger and malice consume. It is needless to menwhich so often lie down with the sinner in an early tion intemperance and sensuality, the effects of grave. Godliness has the promise of the life that now is-by freeing us from the malignant passions, which are always injurious to ourselves, as well as to others, and by inducing the affectionate and benevolent ones, which are always beneficial-by the peace it sheds abroad in the bosom, and the hope and confidence it authorizes and inspires, as well as by surrounding us with the care of Providence: it is, as David calls it, "the health of the countenance ;" and justifies the admonition of his son- Fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be bealth to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones." Are not my

days few?

Why, then, moderate your attachment to every thing that depends upon their brevity. Who would set their heart on that which is not? Who would load with treasure a vessel rotten or full of holes? world are very uncertain in themselves, and often All the admired distinctions and possessions of the leave us; but if they continue with us, we cannot continue with them. We brought nothing with us into the world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. Yet, stripped and naked as we shall go, go we must; and the time of our departure is at hand. Oh! what shall we think a few days hence of those pursuits which now so much engross us! "To-morrow carried to the grave from a cottage or a mansion, or we die:" and what will it signify whether we are leave behind us much or little? Endeavour to think "Brethren, the time always, as you will feel soon. is short it remaineth, that both they that have wives be as though they had none; and they that weep. as though they wept not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world, as not abusing it: for the fashion of this world passeth away.' Are not my days few?

Then let us well employ and improve them. This

is what Moses prayed for: "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." And what is wisdom? This must be determined by circumstances. What is wise conduct in one man may be folly in another, because of their different relations and circumstances. But it is easy to determine what is wisdom in a man who numbers his days, and finds them to be few; and who has, during their continuance, an all-important interest to secure, and has no other opportunity. If he is guilty, it must be wise in him to seek forgiveness; if he is lost, it must be wise in him to seek salvation; and if he be unable to save himself, it must be wise in him to apply to another, who is appointed for the very purpose. And, in our case, such a one there is his name is Jesus. He is mighty to save. He is willing to save. Instead of complaining of your application, he only complains of your neglect "Ye will not come to me that ye might have life." Many have tried his power and his love, and recommended him from their own happy experience. He is now on the throne of grace. But he will not be always there. He will soon ascend the tribunal of justice. Seek him while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near. Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

This part of our subject branches itself into another line of duty. As you are to gain good, so you are to do good-and this, too, is equally enforced by the fewness of your days. Life is yours; and it affords you one privilege above the saints in light. It is the opportunity of beneficence-of relieving the poor, of instructing the ignorant, of converting the sinner. But remember two things: their days are few, and therefore they will soon be gone beyond the possibility of receiving relief; and your days are few, and you will soon be placed beyond the possibility of affording it. Wing your zeal, therefore, with the thought-"The night cometh wherein no man can work."

There is a way of lengthening life. It is not by "filling our duration, but by diligence. It is by days." It is by doing much business in a little time. Some live longer in a week than others do in a year. -Rev. W. Jay.

A LYING WONDER.

served by a merciful dispensation of Providence! This is evidently an incontestable sign in favour of the Catholic, Apostolical, and Roman religion. The monk of Orval was like the great prophets of the Old Testament, and whoever dared dispute the authenticity of these predictions, was an abominable heretic, deserving the most awful chastisement.

The thing went on very well for some time; but as the journals had commenced a fierce discussion on the subject, the Bishop of Verdun, in whose diocess the prophetic book had appeared, was forced to open an inquiry. And what was the result of this examination? Alas! the end of the affair was less agreeable than the commencement. It was proved that these pretended predictions were the work of an impostor; that this impostor was a priest named B-, curé of D-; that he had forged a false manuscript; that he had pretended the existence of an imaginary monk-in one word, that it was a pure trick. The prophecies were written after the events, and the author had only taken the trouble to imitate the style of the sixteenth century.

Great was the shame of the priest convicted of having been guilty of so disgraceful a fabrication, and deep was the confusion of the devotees who had believed it. The curé had to undergo a severe penance, and the bishop confessed that he had been' sorely distressed by this affair. The men of the world made it the subject of their wicked jokes.

This circumstance teaches a lesson useful to all. I am persuaded that if all the prodigies of which Popery boasts had been subjected to a stricter examination, the result would have been the same. Gratuitous suppositions, lying inventions, fabulous narratives, forgeries, are the only terms applicable to the miracles of Rome. Will this church never renounce these pious frauds, which procure for It only ephemeral triumphs, and turn eventually to its hurt? Evangelical Christendom, May 1849.

THE OLD AFRICAN.

THERE was an aged woman, named Litsape: she had lived during the reign of four of the kings of her tribe. In the year 1835, she was baptized and enrolled among the members of the Church of Christ, and to the day of her decease she continued a warmhearted, zealous, and consistent disciple of our blessed Lord. During that period of ten years there was no part of her conduct to excite an unpleasant emo"Some years tion in the minds of her teachers. ago," writes the Rev. Robert Moffat, "her only son and his wife, with whom she lived, and on whom she was dependent, left the station of Kuruman, and they employed every argument to induce the venerable woman to leave with them. Their importunity was the more remarkable, as she was almost helpless, and viewed by the heathen as a nonentity, or in their language-a dry old hide." Her son and daughter, both unbelievers, still persisted in their endeavours to take her away, but nothing could induce her to alter her resolution. Her replies were noble-'I can be happy any where if Jesus is only there; if I can only hear his voice! You tell me

I shall die of hunger here: I shall trust my Saviour for that. He cared for me, he fed me, and clothed me, during many, very many years, when I knew him not, and thanked him not! and will he not take care of me now that I love him? You know I love him. Leave my God, and the people of God, for Satan! No! Let me die where I am, and let me die of hunger too, rather than leave the service and the people of my Saviour. He feeds my soul. I shall not die but live!'"

Finding her immovable, they left her without a sigh; but other emotions possessed her soul. "You," addressing her son and daughter, “will soon forget me, but I will not so soon forget you; for while you sing and dance with the heathen, I shall be weeping for your souls, and praying for you, my children! " Her grand-daughter, who with her husband Magame were believers, took her to dwell with them, and her home was beneath their roof till she died. Her mind was ever alive to divine things, and she appear ed to put the highest value on every word coming from God. She was never absent, even in the seasons of her greatest debility, from public worship. Latterly, having entirely lost her eyesight, she would totter along with a staff in one hand, and groping with the other, to hear the words of Jesus Christ. She rejoiced that the sense of hearing was still left to her, and that she could still hear her Saviour's voice. "She always appeared," says Mr Moffat, "to have her heart full of love to her Redeemer. Wherever she was, or at whatever hour of the day or night, she poured forth of the good treasure of her heart. She was all peace and contentment."

"The night before her dissolution I remained with her several hours, expecting each to be her last on earth. I was conversing with those present about her probable age. She heard us and she spoke. 'I am not old,' she said; I only began to live when I first knew and loved the Saviour. My former life was a nothing-a dream. I was asleep till a stranger came to me-it was Jesus. He cried, Awake! awake! I awoke, and beheld his hands and feet which my sins had pierced, and then I cried with horror-my heart died within me. I said, 'Let the anger of the Lord destroy me, for I have slain his son.' I felt I

was a murderer! I felt I was made of sin! I was not a worm, but a serpent. My heart died—I became as a corpse. The eagles of heaven saw my bodythey were descending to devour it; but Jesus came again, and said, Live!' I asked her if she had any misgivings in the certain prospect of soon entering into life, in the unseen and deathless state? She replied with great ardour, How can I doubt, when Christ has done all for me? I am not my own, I am part of his body.' I spoke of the unmingled happiness enjoyed in heaven in the society of saints and angels: Yes,' she added, but it is the presence of the Saviour that makes that happiness! Could I be happy were he not there? No." She appeared to have no ebbs and flows of feeling. From the abounding fulness of her heart her mouth spake. She was much in prayer. Her lamp burned with a steady flame, throwing a lustre on every thing around her, till it died away in the pure day of heaven.

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She was truly a brand plucked from the burning—| a trophy of the power of the everlasting gospel; for she had been a sinner of no common order-a kind of priestess of the unmeaning rites of heathenism. Her faith was simple as it was sincere; and, considering her great age when she was aroused to a sense of her danger, I was frequently surprised at the extent of her knowledge, and the clearness of her views on divine subjects."-Rev. C. B. Tayler.

PASSAGES FROM AN OLD AUTHOR.

1. A FOUNDATION FOR FAITH.

Is thy faith a temptation-quenching faith? Many say they believe: yes, that they do! They thank God they are not infidels. Well, what exploits canst thou do with thy faith? Is it able to defend thee in a day of battle, and cover thy soul in safety when Satan's darts fly thick about thee? or is it such a sorry shield that it lets every arrow of temptation pierce thy heart through it? Thou believest, but still as great a slave to thy lust as ever. When a good fellow calls thee out to a drunken meeting, thy faith cannot keep thee out of the snare, but away thou goest, as a fool to the stocks. If Satan tells thee thou mayest improve thy estate by a lie, or cheat in thy shop, thy faith stands very tamely by, and makes no resistance. In a word, thou hast faith, and yet drivest a trade of sin in the very face of it. O God forbid that any should be under so great a delusion, to carry such a lie in their hand, and think it a saving faith! Will this faith ever carry thee to heaven, which is not able to bring thee out of hell? for there thou livest while under the power of thy lust. "Will you steal, murder, and commit adultery, and swear falsely, and come and stand before me?" (Jer. vii. 9, 10.) If this be faith, well fare the honest heathens who escaped these gross pollutions of the wallowing in. world, which you, like beasts, with your faith lie

O venture not the life of your soul with such a paper shield; come to Him for a faith who is the faith-maker; he will help thee to a faith that shall quench the very fire of hell itself, though kindled in thy bosom, and divide the waves of the lust in which now thou art drowned (as once he did the sea for Israel), that thou shalt go on dry land to heaven, and thy lust not be able to knock off thy wheels of thy chariot. But if thou attemptest this with thy false faith, the Egyptian's end will be thine. "By faith they passed through the Red Sea as by dry land, which the Egyptians essaying to do, were drowned." (Heb. xi. 29.) Though true faith gets safely through the depths of temptation, yet false faith will drown by the way. But perhaps thou canst tell us better news than this, and give us better evidence for the truth of thy faith. Let us therefore hear what singular thing hath been done by thee since thou hast become a believer. The time was thou wert as weak as water; every blast of temptation blew thee down; thou wert carried as a dead fish with the stream; but canst thou say, since thou hast been acquainted with Christ, thou art endued with a power to repel those temptations which before held Canst thou now be content to bring thy lusts, thy heart in perfect obedience to their commands? which once were of great price, with thee, as those believers did their conjuring books (Acts xix. 19), and throw them into the fire of God's love in Christ to thy soul, there to consume them? Possibly full conquest; yet have they begun to fall in thy thou hast not them at present under thy foot in a thoughts, and is thy countenance changed towards them to what it was? Be of good comfort, this is enough to prove thy faith of the royal race. "When